Presents
by Oh Moneypenny
Summary: Neal has given Peter presents over their time together, but now he gives him one he might actually want. It's Peter's birthday, and Neal makes it one he'll remember with some good old fashioned wining and dining for him and Elizabeth. Not slash, just friendship.


This is my first White Collar fic, so **please** be gentle.

**Disclaimer: I don't own White Collar**

**Presents**

Neal had given Peter plenty of presents in their time knowing each other. Whether it was leaving a little clue when he knew the FBI would be on his trail, or giving him a new tie when his old one wouldn't cut it, he had given him a lot. Peter kept them all in the same drawer, his little memories of his favourite convicted felon.

But it was Peter's birthday. Neal was sure to know, either that or he'd see the birthday cards when he stormed his quiet breakfast _again_.

Peter was right, Neal did know and he was planning something. He had considered a million things, but knew that Peter wouldn't appreciate a fine bottle of Merlot or a piece of art... rather Peter appreciated the simple things. He considered questioning Elizabeth but he could just hear the 'Oh, Neal, honey, how about a ticket to the game or something?' and that just wouldn't cut it.

* * *

He found himself sitting at the table under the slanted windows, his eyes trained on the bright lights of New York beyond the glass. He sighed, pouring another glass of wine and staring into it as if it held all his answers that he needed.

There was a knock at the door and Mozzie entered. "Oh, what are we drinking?" His voice was cheery, bringing Neal out of his thoughts.

"Just a Shiraz," Neal said, pouring a glass for Moz as he sat down across from Neal.

"I see," he gave a decisive nod, "And what's got you looking all pensive?"

Neal sighed and swirled the wine around his glass without looking up at Moz. "Peter."

"What did you do?" Moz immediately asked, his tone accusing.

"Nothing," Neal said, rubbing the heels of his hands into his eyes. He could practically feel Moz's interrogative stare burning into him. "_Nothing_," he repeated. "It's his birthday tomorrow."

"And you forgot the card this year?"

"No, of course not," Neal smirked, just because he was out of prison didn't mean he was going to break the tradition of sending him a card. "But now that I'm out, I should get him a present."

"A gift for a fed has you stuck?" Moz rolled his eyes and sipped his wine. "Losing your romantic touch, huh, Neal?"

"It's not romantic," Neal said, glancing up at him. "But I know just what to do." He grinned and stood, clapping Mozzie on the shoulder as he grabbed a jacket and left, letting the door shut behind him.

Moz looked up, hardly surprised at Neal's sudden departure. He frowned for a moment before spotting some new books at the end of the table. He pulled them towards him, along with the bottle of wine they had started. "Go out and brave the cold for your Suit then," he muttered as he flipped open the cover of the new book, "because I think this is _just_ fine."

* * *

Neal made to complete his errands in just under an hour, that wouldn't be a problem. Hopefully, the two mile radius wouldn't be a problem either.

He slipped into a deli and bought the things he needed, thinking that his decision had been right. Peter would prefer a nice gesture rather than an extravagant gift. Although, he thought, he might just slip a bottle of wine into the kitchen of Peter and El's house for them to enjoy over dinner.

He went home, huffed another sigh and started planning.

* * *

The next morning, he made his way into work early, settling down behind Peter's desk to prepare things for the day. It wasn't long before Special Agent Peter Burke strode through the door to see Neal Caffrey lounging behind his desk, heels kicked up to rest on the edge, a smirk playing on his face.

"Coffee, Peter?" Neal smiled.

Peter was silent, eyes landing on the lavender coloured envelope on the desk. Only Caffrey would match his tie to his stationary.

"Italian Roast, which I believe you're partial too..." Neal held out a coffee cup, the aroma of fresh coffee hitting Peter hard. Peter never said no to coffee, and it was early, which made coffee even more of a necessity.

"Happy Birthday, by the way," Neal said as he sipped his own coffee, moving out of the chair as Peter gestured him to do so with a flick of his hand. "I'll be downstairs if you need me."

Peter was stuck between smiling and frowning, he wasn't used to having Neal this close to him on his birthday. Normally the card was in his mailbox rather than hand delivered to his desk. He picked up the envelope, rolling his eyes at the obvious quality of the paper between his fingers. He ripped it open, drawing out a card with Van Gogh's 'Sunflowers' emblazoned on the front. He flipped it open, eyes scanning Neal's familiar, elegant script:

_"Dear Peter, Happy Birthday! Like fine wine, you only get better with age. Your favourite pet convict, Neal. XOXO." _

Peter laughed, the message inside the card was bordering cheesy but ever so Neal. He sighed, propping the card up against the photo frame that held a picture of him and Elizabeth.

* * *

At lunch, Neal had to execute the second part of his birthday operation. He headed towards Peter's office, a small plastic box in his hands. He tapped on Peter's door, deciding on this courtesy since it was his birthday after all and entered. "Lunch delivery for you."

"I didn't order any," Peter said without looking up from his work.

"Lunch with El?"

"No, I just haven't had the chance. You see, Neal, some of us have a lot of paperwork to do-"

Neal cut him off by putting the box down on his desk and taking off the lid with a certain dramatic flourish. "Devilled ham. On fresh bread."

"Thank you," Peter said, his tone honest.

"Hey, you're not one for big fancy gestures and gifts... thought I'd just perk your day up a little." Neal grinned.

"You're right. I don't feel the urge to acquire a good few Renaissance paintings to pass the day."

"Just eat your devilled ham, Peter," Neal sighed, sitting down across from him and adjusting his cuffs.

* * *

The main part of the plan meant that Neal had to make his excuses and jump in a cab, leaving Peter and Diana exchanging confused glances. Jones ducked his head, shielding a smile as he continuted to look for evidence. He was part of Neal's plan. Neal smiled at Peter before jumping in a cab to attend to some real business. After stopping off at June's place and picking up his supplies, he made his way to the Burke residence.

He picked the lock, knowing Peter would be mad, but he could take it. He slipped into the kitchen, setting a bouquet of flowers on the coffee table for Elizabeth before setting down to work. He quickly found Elizabeth's work planner that she left at home - he knew she kept a pocket sized one in her bag - and found she would be at an event until six at least. He checked his watch; he had time.

He quickly set the table with cutlery from the kitchen and linen napkins that he had bought and pressed specially, folding them elaborately over the place mats. He stood back, smiling at his own work before straightening a knife carefully. He then put wine and water glasses on the table, along with a bottle of Pinot Noir to complete the table setting. He checked his time again, remembering to pull the cork before leaving - that wine had to breathe.

He headed into the kitchen to make a start with the food. The starter was simple, a soup, which he was told was delicious that he poured into a saucepan and left on the stove ready to be heated. The main, he laid two fillet steaks on a plate and slid it into the fridge. He peeled potatoes and vegetables, dousing them in water as he hummed to himself quietly.

Lastly, he took removed his dessert from it's white bakery box: a dark chocolate cake, with one solitary candle standing in the middle. He also slid it onto a plate before grinning, and laying it on the table so that it would be seen when Peter returned home.

He took a piece of paper the coffee table and wrote:

_Peter, I know how often you get home late and don't get to spend time with El. I've taken care of that tonight. Happy Birthday. Love, your favourite pet convict. P.S El, enjoy the flowers. _

He smiled at his handiwork, and texted Jones, telling him to send Peter home. He opened the wine and with that, he left the house silently, hoping Peter wouldn't be too mad about him picking the lock to get into his house.

* * *

I hope you liked it. Originally, this was going to become a PeterxNeal fic but that just didn't seem the way this one was going. Review it, please?


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